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2013-02-28 6 Hours to Sunset
The small hairs on Jackie's arm are moving, standing up on end with a strange, slow, tickling like motion. A wash of heat spreads over him like a down blanket thrown across him on an already warm summer's day. He lifts his arm to swat at something he's certain is buzzing near his head, "s dark n here." he mutters almost unintelligably through dry lips, his mouth sticking cottony and cloying. He cracks and eye with a groan and realizes why it's dark. His eyes are closed. Wait. Why is is sleeping if it's hot outside? Isn't it winter? Part of him doesn't care, warm is good, and he could do with a nap. The buzzing comes again, annoying, insistent, but Jackie pushes it away. "bzz bzz little bee." he mutters, turning his head to the side as if to snuggle down for a nap. The impact of a hand across his face brings everything into focus quickly, the slap snapping him out of his half stupor as his eyes flash wide and his hand comes up with a gun in it with a speed that only habit and reaction could create, the muzzle pressed against the hollow of Domino's throat. He blinks, confuse. "What the fu-..." his voice drifting off as he looks around him. His Lambo is still sitting down/nose up, though it would appear a good portion of said ass is missing. He lowers the gun almost as quickly, "Shit." he states, memory flooding back. One glance at the bloody gash on the side of Roy's head makes Jackie frown, a second wash of heat makes him glance down as he realizes something behind them in the V 12 is on fire. He smells gas. Now the buzzing starts to come into focus as his crash addled brain finishes waking up, Domino's shouts forming into words... For expensive car wrecks, Domino gives this one a clear seven. That's a lot of money and Italian engineering gone to waste, but Jackie had insisted on driving! His car, his fuckup, his loss. Unfortunately, that also means that her job of keeping him alive just became more difficult by a magnitude of four hundred and thirty-eight percent, and rising. "Wake up, idiot!"" she yells out while striking the dazed mobster across the face. "Tryin' to get yourself killed?! Come on, we don't have time for this!" The albino survived the crash, though it took its toll on her even with her luck. There's some blood oozing down the side of her pale face, a cut along the hairline seeping bright crimson that, fortunately, ebbs right around her right eye and not into it. As you start coming around she barks back "Nice of you to join the rest of the class. We've got twenty-four seconds." The warning is voiced as she pulls a pair of fully automatic pistols off of the trashed car's roof, tucking them into the webbing that surrounds her figure. That only frees her hands up for the MP7 that's quick to follow, checking the chamber without a thought. "Move your ass or I'll move it for you, Crash." Jackie turns in his seat a bit so that he can adjust his stance in his seat, standing up on the back of the seat as his head goes through the space where the windshield used to be. "You are way to hot to be this bitchy." he counters, reaching down, "Now hand me the soulless ginger so I can get him outa here." Soon as she pushes Roy within his grasp, Jackie hauls him up and over a shoulder, "How does he keep his arrows from falling out when he's upside down like this?" he asks Domino as he slides off the roof of the car (thunk goes Roy's head on the side of the Lambo) "Oops." and then lightly onto the ground and into a puddle of gas. Jackie doesn't wait around after that, he starts to hobble towards the shops on the far side of the street, expecting Domino will follow. The crowd that's long since begun to form on the side of the street, parts before the advancing mobster and his cargo, staring at the trashed Lambo and the Albino woman and the masked red head... Jackie is pretty sure that no one will even remember he was here. Sweet. He moves over to a large man in a leather jacket and heavy boots who's watching the chaos with barely hidden glee in his hard eyes while sitting astride a Harley. Jackie stops in front of the man, stares at him, "You know who I am?" The man stares at Jackie for a long moment and nods, "Gimme your bike.", the man glances up at the hitman's eyes with a sharp retort on his lips.... and then dismounts the bike. "Good boy." Jackie says as he mounts the monster hog, and then slides Roy into the spot behind him, motioning Dom to sit on the other side to help keep the unconscious man upright while he drives. Again. Moments later the thundering roar of the Harley's engine drowns out any hope of talk as Jackie quickly takes them into a maze of Chinatown back alleys and streets... "Not my business nor my concern," Dom shoots back while pushing Arsenal's body into Jackie's awaiting hands. "If we don't get another vehicle soon we're done for." A moment later and she drops down out of the ruined car as well, following behind and providing cover as necessary. So far no shots are required, but she's ready for the inevitable rematch with, oh, half of every armed goon in this city. "Next ride we find? I'm driving." Then Jackie picks a bike. A -Bike.- With three people. "Glad to see flipping your Lambo onto its ass didn't knock some sense into your head," she verbally prods Jackie with a sigh of utter disdain. "You need to stop thinking with your eyes and use your head a little more, bikes aren't built for two people and an unconscious moron." Gads... Half a million, Domino! Get your butt on the bike. The ride lasts only a handful of blocks, taking them deep into Chinatown, where the bike comes to a slow rolling stop and the engine is cut. Jackie then turns to look at Domino over his shoulder, "First off, I'm paying you to shoot so I /can/ drive, secondly, we can't take the Harley any further, thirdly... we don't have to." he drops the kick stand and slides off the bike, once more taking the unconscious Roy over a shoulder, "Come on." and then he walks over to a steel door and kicks it twice. An old fashioned slide opens and a pair of Asian eyes peer out. Jackie looks back into them, "Open up Mei." the slide slams shut and then the door opens, allowing the trio to enter. A couple of dark hallways are taken, following a small hard eyed old Chinese woman, and into a room with an old moldy cot, a sink that's seen better days, and a toilet that, well... it works. Jackie drops Roy onto the cot and eyes the woman, "I need a first aid kit and a resupply. Now." she nods and starts to go, his hand slams across the doorframe, blocking her way, "You tell anyone where I am Mei, and I will come back here tonight." his words drop low and dangerous, his eyes narrowing, "And you know what happens when I visit people at night." the small, old, hard eyed Asian woman visibly blanches, nodding quickly. Jackie holds the stare for a long moment, then lowers his arm, letting her go. Then he turns to Domino, "We got maybe an hour to hole up here, regroup, before word gets out and we're tracked." he blinks and looks down at his side, where blood has stained his shirt. "Well shit." he states as his suit coat is tossed aside, his shirt joining it a moment later. Bruises across his ribs, a long gash from which he pulls a thin sliver of shrapnel from something, and the grazed bullet burn over his forearm. "Fuckin' Tuesdays." he mutters, flicking the shrapnel away as the small woman returns with bandages, food, and a duffel bag that clanks nicely when she sets it down. She bows once and exits, closing the door behind her. Jackie eyes Dom, "Let's get to work..." "I'm assuming that you don't need me to play the role of your nurse in all of this," Domino tells Jackie in a tone that, quite plainly, says 'forget about it.' With Arsenal on the cot and their goodies delivered she finds the nearest flat surface she can locate and starts checking over her newly acquired gear. One never knows the condition of another person's weaponry. Now that it's -her- weaponry, it needs to make the cut. Everything looks clean, topped off, and appears to be in decent service grade. Points in Jackie's favor. "This place got a stocked garage?" she asks while resituating everything upon her person. Tending to her own wounds waits until after she's gotten her gear in order, a little blood loss isn't the end of her world. "Worst case scenario, one of us can secure transportation while you pull yourself together. The mark isn't on our heads, we'll have an easier time flying under the radar." Even if that means she might have to lose sight of her mark for a time. Beggars can't be choosers. "No." Jackie says to Dom, "No garage, and you wouldn't want one anyway. This is Chinatown, vehicles here go slower then you would on foot and there are entirely to many choke points to make any sort of motorized escape impossible. For now?" he eyes her, "We hoof it. Use the cover, the buildings, the roofs, whatever. We're more mobile that way, slower perhaps, but more agile. Now stop playing with the bullets and help me get the ginger fixed up, you kill your boy toys and no one else will want to let you sit in their lap anymore." And so goes the time, ticking slowly away... It's noon in January in New York city. A more gorgeous day couldn't have been asked for. The skies are clear of clouds, the sun is almost blindingly bright, the roads are clear, but snow twinkles it's blinding merry way on any flat surface large enough to hold it. Hovering around 30 degree's it's warmed up a fair bit from the previous cold storm weather they'd suffered the last few weeks, but it's still more then cold enough to cause the occasional carpet bagger to bitch about the weather. Real New Yorkers don't even notice. An hour has passed since the trio found refuge, wounds are treated with salves, wrappings, and stiching as appropriate, and Jackie, the only one with truely ruined clothes is now sporting a merry Gift Shop t-shirt that hugs his body tightly and proudly proclaims AMERICA! in red white and blue letters across it's front, while beneath it in tiny print are the words 'made in China'. He reloads his twin XDM's and reholsters them, and checks the 1911's as well, before sliding them back into place at the base of his spine. He glances at Roy and Domino as they too regear from the duffel bag, "Dibs." Jackie says with a grin, pulling out a Super M-90 that is far to short in the barrel to be legal, and with a half cock checks the load in the chamber. He also takes a box of shells, sliding 5 into the side combat slots on the side of the shotgun while the rest he dumps into the pocket of a nice camel hair coat Mei was nice enough to supply. He shrugs into the coat, his still gloved hands peeking out the ends. The t-shirt looks all the more ridiculous for it... but he still manages to pull it off, make it look chic. "Ready?" he doesn't wait for an answer before he lets the shotgun slide down inside the coat's long folds and he steps out into the hall, walking purposefully towards the gambling hall proper. Ah, the wonderous sounds of combat prep. Music to Domino's ears. Mags loaded, chambers checked, safeties set into their appropriate stations across the board, it all takes her back. Other times, other countries. Other teams. It's been a long time since she's worked with another pile of mercs, something gets lost in translation when she's the only one resorting to the extra firepower. "Glad someone's taking the twelve," she says without having to look to recognize the sound of that M-90 being checked. Around here, guns..aren't a problem. Four handguns, one personal defense weapon, and an FAL battle rifle that looks like it could have been a war trophy from several decades ago. Somehow she's still able to move around with all of this, years of practice and all. "Yeah, sure thing, Mister America," she replies in a flat tone. Anyone that gets in the way of this group? They're going to come to regret it very quickly. "Ready," Arsenal replies, a bandage wrapped around his temples, and a borrowed red trucker's cap on his head to keep from exposing to the world that, it would be a -great- idea to aim for that bloody red spot on his head. There's a pause as Roy considers the weaponry. Normally, he didn't really want to aim to kill, but this... without his crossbows, he was going to have to be -really- dead-on with his shooting to avoid casualities. After some consideration, he picks up a pair of SIG Sauer pistols, an HK-416, and a Savage .308. Shoving ammo into the light red vest he nabbed from Mei, Roy nods, grinning at Jackie. "Lead on. I'll cover her rear." Cole needed some money, killing daemonites doesn't pay that much you know, so he decided to gamble. Well actually he came to play some poker, yeah they do have a poker table run like an AC and Vegas on, the house takes a percentage of every pot. But poker is actually a good game to play for someone like Cole, you read people and a former con man is damn good at reading people and not being read himself. So he is sitting at the table, reading the wonderful people around him. Of course he is secretly cursing the fact that he couldn't bring guns into here. Really they would have searched him at the front door, and he didn't want to make a big scene out of it. Cause a big scene means guns would have gone off, and people would have gotten hurt, and cops would be here. All of those are bad things. But as he looks at his hand and folds, knowing one of the other guys has at least two pair, he thinks of how good it would be to have extra insurance, just in case. Jackie walks into the gambling parlor, perhaps the only one of the three, with his weapons hidden away. His coat covers the pistols and extra clips, and even the shortened shotty is hidden away inside it's folds. He begins weaving his way through the crowd, ignoring the majority of the gamblers entirely to busy and self obssessed to notice him or his compartiots. They have gambling to do after all. He's in the center of the room, still headed for the door, when everything goes to hell. The front door of the gambling parlor quite simply explodes inward with a WHUMP sound while shuttered windows burst inward under the preassure of black clad bodies. From somewhere in the bowels of the establishment, presumably the kitchen area, there are sudden crashing sounds, bangings, and then a quick series of short control shots. Jackie's already moving. Juiced up from the first part of the morning, he's not caught even a little flat footed this time, his shoulder hitting a roulette table with force as he rams into it, kicking it up on end and turning the thick table into a wall. "Cover!" he bellows behind him as the rolling black clad forms pop up almost in unison and the muzzles of P90's and SMP5's begin to sweep the stunned shocked crowd of the parlor in a methodical manner. These are not hitters. These are soldiers. Emotionlessly they fire into the small pockets of gamblers in short 3 short bursts, effciently murdering anyone silly enough to be in their way by gambling at noon on a weekday. Yup. These aren't gang bangers, there's no battle cries, no side ways gun action, it's all control and dicipline and skill. And it's scary. There's something else that Domino has had a lot of experience with. Being discreet. That ankle-length coat can hide quite a large number of things, including (just barely) the FAL. It requires more care in how she moves, held in place by nothing more than the pressure of her arm pinning it to her side. It's not meant to be carried in such a fashion. It also isn't kept that way for long. Not with the company they're about to find themselves against. They never make it to the door. No further warning is necessary. There's a tingling in the back of her shoulders as she dives for cover, the heavy rifle coming out of hiding and up to her shoulder before she's had a chance to fall into position. Her gun? Not even remotely silenced. Select-fire, thirty caliber. It's -loud.- On the upside, it'll absolutely obliterate all but the most superior of body armor. Subtlety disappeared over an hour ago with that flaming wreckage they left on the bridge. Now it's down to survival. "Who the hell are -these- guys?!" Dom yells out between shots, palm-width chunks of brass snapping out of the side of her rifle. These dudes may be well trained and highly experienced, but so is she. "We gotta keep moving!" Arsenal was looking to minimalize casualities early. With the Savage on his back for precise aim, and the pistols tucked away for proper gun-fu, that left the HK416. Which is why the first thing he does when entering is immediately use the assault rifle on the large statues, chandeliers, and other large structures. Hell, even the large aquarium the Chinese place kept for whatever reason. Because dammit, the next thing going in there was going to be a carefully shot lamp that would tip over and send its crackling wires flying onto the about-to-be-very-wet people. Oh it wouldn't hurt! ... much. Well at the table Cole just flopped three aces, see already a good hand at that one. And then the dealer gets shot, and yes a veteran like Cole knows when someone gets shot. "Oh you have got to be shitting me." Yeah it would be his luck to get an awesome hand, only to have someone start shooting the place up, and he doesn't even have his guns, totally unfair! So with the shooting happening, Cole's instincts take over, he shoves the other gamblers at his table down, well the ones closest to him anyway. Cole himself quickly dives for cover as well and he looks at the other gamblers, "Any of you have a gun on you? Maybe something with automatic fire." Silenced weapons, good shots, these guys are totally pros. Pros are tougher to deal with, they don't make as many mistakes as others do. "I'll settle for a few knives right now if anyone has any, heck even a toothpick would be better than nothing!" Mental note Mr. Cash, bring a small weapon that you can sneak into places with you at all times! Jackie barely glances around the corner before pulling the trigger on the M90 twice, the semi-auto shotty puts up a hail of double ought that literally knocks one of the black clad men right back out the window he just dove through, flipping him over the window sill like an armored pancake. Domino's rounds have the great luck of actually punching through armor and killing a pair of the soldiers, but that also gives her the bad luck of drawing the majority of the attention. And the attention appears to be steel cored, 9mm, and exceptionally well aimed and in 3 shot bursts. The soldiers, now faced with semi organized resistance, instantly find cover of their own and begin firing in groupings, aimed to keep Domino pinned down as their smaller but no less armor peircing rounds begin punching holes in her cover like it was made of tissue paper. The floor of water across the floor combines with a sudden pop of lights and two more of the men drop, these stiffening, their fingers closing on their weapons and firing random shots into the air as their bodies convulse for a moment before the breaker blows and the lamp is rendered lifeless. For every one soldier that drops, another comes through the door or a window as if these were all acceptable losses. "Window!" Jackie shouts, "East side! I'll cover!" He pokes his head back out and lays down a rain of shotgun rounds, blindly fired and meant to keep people behind their chosen cover. He fees rounds into the weapon even as smoking red casing pop out the side. It's a short burst, but it should buy much needed time... and say what you want about the hit man not being a spy or a merc, he knows his work. Covering fire or no, one of the soldiers, silly enough to poke his head out, withdraws half of what he stuck into the open, his corpse falling flat to the floor a good four inches shorter then it used to be. So much for cover. Steel cored rounds are barely slowed by Dom's spot of cover. Fortunately, her armor is rated surprisingly well for 9mm projectiles. They won't punch holes into her, but they will hurt like all -Hell.- "OW, knock it off!" Hello, internal hemorrhaging. Also, water on the floor. With a spark to be provided. Some other guy's calling out for a weapon... Time to go to work. Domino abandons her cover as Roy drops the broken lamp into the growing river. Enemy shots start going wild, though some of the baddies are still left outside of the shock zone. One guy draws a bead on her face and squeezes the trigger, the hammer dropping onto a dead primer. Jam. The wild fire from those getting electrocuted riddles the ceiling with fresh holes, though one of those random shots destroys one of two chains supporting a heavy neon sign, causing it to swing across the line of fire and slam into another gunman. And that gambler who's calling out for a weapon? There's a fully loaded HK MP7 sliding across the table right next to him, forty rounds ready to roll. "A winner is you, now give us a hand!" Dom calls out while cracking open a helmet-covered head with another quick chatter of her rifle. A little cover fire and she's on the move, diving for the eastern window as glassware shatters and wood splinters all around her. Damn. With the breaker blown, that leaves little option here. He -really- didn't want to whip out the pistols yet, and there -was- his little matter of being able to improvise. But what to... "Aw, fug it," Roy mutters, as he dashes for the bar, leaping across the counter and grabbing armfuls of alcohol. They'd BETTER have put out the high proof kind, because he was going to start hurdling those at the windows -after- smashing the tops off, leaving little streams of alcohol flying. And now... to test whether these restaurants -really- did water down their drinks... Returning fire while fumbling for matches, Roy locates one, ducks under the counter, and soaks a napkin in the remaining bottle. Lighting it up, the archer shouts, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" while tossing the lit bottle towards the windows... The pale lady has decided to slide him a weapon, so she is either the luckiest lady out there, or just really really trusting. But he has a weapon, the precious, the life taker, all that wonderful stuff. Cole quickly pops out from behind the poker table he was at and fires a quick round at some of the oncoming people. After that he ducks back down behind the table. Now realizing the water has gotten his pants wet. "Someone had to go and flood the freaking floor? My pants are wet now. Guess I should at least introduce myself, I'm Cole." He calls out the person that slide him the gun, hey she gave him a weapon, that's like automatic best friend material right there. Jackie growls under his breath at Roy's antics, and that's for two reasons. First off, he's laying down a perfectly good covering fire here for people to make use of, and two... Because yes, they do in fact water the drinks down in the cheap illegal Chinese gambling parlor that's open at noon on a Tuesday to the most degenerate of losers. What? Roy was expecting Atlantic City? Though, fire and liqour bottles, filled with good stuff or not, does tend to give nearly everyone a moments hessitation. So it buys him that, a half seconds pause from everyone, waiting to see if there's a wall of flame to contend with... there isn't. "Well Cole, I'm Jackie, that's Tits McGee, and the girl is affectionately referred to as-GET THE FUCK THROUGH THE GODDAMNED WINDOW ALREADY!!" Jackie is having a rough morning, forgive him. He yanks a G18 from the pocket of the coat and simply sprays and prays at the door as one of the soldiers having given up on the art of silenced weapons, steps into it just long enough to under hand toss a pair of round metalic objects into the room, neither of which have spoons still attached to them. And havn't for at least a couple seconds. Jackie puts his face to the floor and crosses his arms over his head as the twin grenades render every table, booth, gambling device, and a good portion of the bar (at the other end from Roy thankfully) into just so much hurtling shrapnel. The blast wave blows out any remaining windows and the flying bits of things whistle over Jackie's head like lethal hornets, buzzing as they go by. "Jesus." he whispers to himself. Someone /really/ wants him dead! The grenade tossing man who took a chest full of 9mm from Jackie is already struggling back up to his feet, a revolver capable of shooting down the ISS gleaming as it comes into view. Yeah. It's likely best everyone start getting the hell out of the kill box. Jackie makes himself an example and follows Domino out the window. Cole and Roy will be fine. Right? Ah..yeah. Less talkie, more window-diving. Introductions can wait! And--where the hell is everyone?! Domino's outside. Jackie and Arsenal and that other guy, they're ..oh, goddamn. "Any time this century, ladies!" Whatever they're doing in there? Not important! She can barely see the baddies to offer any cover fire, running the risk of hitting someone she doesn't mean to shoot. How's the outside looking? If it's clear, she's going to keep it that way. If it -isn't- clear, she's going to make it that way. With any luck the cops are still too focused on the wreckage they left across the bridge, and roads, and mall, to quickly respond to this incident. She's gotta adjust the odds a little once something -explodes- inside the joint, however. She's got enough time to crouch and cover her head as shards of glass rain down across the back of her coat, some of the heavier pieces tearing through the reinforced leather. God..damnit, there's civilians in there! "What the fuck are you people -doing in there,- let's go!" Thank goodness, there's Jackie, at least. Her money's still on the table. For now. Fuck it... goddamncheap restaurant, not only do you end up being -hungry- again after thirty minutes, apparently it wasn't even good enough to get buzzed after a few minutes. Making a break for Domino, Roy grabs his pistols and starts firing, this time aiming for the barrel of the revolver in the grenade-tosser's hand while leaping out the window. "Coming, sweetheart!" "Tits McGee huh? I once knew an Ass McGee, any relation?" But hey, Cole decides to find the people that gave him a weapon, simple reason is because they are freaking awesome. Well maybe not totally awesome, the ginger passed up at least 3 good kill shots during his run. Cole however isn't going to make that mistake. He charges off following Roy who is following Domino. Cole is firing his new gun at the guys shooting at him, though he aims for head shots, cause well shooting at him means you gotta die. But Cole's luck for the night keeps up as he leaps out the window, and one of those lucky bastards inside the gambling parlor hits him. Once hits a lung, see that one will heal quickly cause it hit the right organ, the other well that doesn't hit anything really vital, just his gallbladder. Jackie is leaning against the wall directly beneath the window as first one, then another man com sailing through it over his head. One of them bleeds on him. Fantastic. "Dude." he says in a very serious tone as he stares at Cole and loads more shells into the M90, "/Just/ got this coat. Like five minutes ago." he jacks a shell home then adds another to the tube. "You suck." he states before pointing the gun on handed at the window nearest them and pulling the trigger just as one of the men peeks out to see if he can spot the running targets, he turns the man's head into a canoe in the blink of an eye. He loads in another round. "Use the alley's for cover, start moving North," he says quickly, taking command of what is likely to be the most insane part of his already ridiculous day. "They'll have snipers covering the rooftops." because that's what he would have done, forced his prey into tight areas, packing them in like rats in a maze... wait... "Better idea." he says, "Through the buildings, stay out of alleys if you can avoid it..." he looks around, realizes he knows this city likely better then any of them and forces himself to his feet, "Just follow me, keep me alive, and I'll try to get us to the Kitchen in one piece." The soldiers that were inside, their numbers now significantly fewer, are reorganizing already, and from somewhere above them the tromp of heavy boots can be heard. Jackie turns to run, showing he's not just a pretty face as he shoulders open the back alley door of a strip club and plows through it's bleary eyed sleepy opening staff and the table that still have chairs on top. Outside there's more gunfire, but it's hurried and random. Jackie doesn't slow, barreling through the kitchen at the back and out into another alley, which he then exits via a window into a third building opened with the toss of a conveniently placed broken toaster resting atop a dumpster. Behind them the soldiers begin falling back to their various back up plans, and realizing the new strategy by the prey, adapt them accordingly. Snipers begin to repossition atop the roofs, moving into a wider net while ground forces hop into vehicles to race ahead, trying to pick likely hiding places and occupy them first while still more pour behind the fleeing killers (and one hero) in a flushing manuver. <> growls an angry voice in the ears of every man, their radios quietly crackling with their superiors anger. <> "Don't let it get to you any, he's not attached to it," Domino counters Jackie's remark with an emotionless tone. ..Wait. Blood? A quick glance is passed back to Cole, "You alright back there?" Jackie, trying to give directions. "So are we taking the alleys or aren't we?" Sigh. The FAL gets thrown across her back, retrieving the machine pistols instead. Much better for indoor work. "I'd say something witty such as 'I don't like this plan, boss,' but we don't seem to -have- a plan." And the guy that she's trying to keep alive? The guy that everyone else wants dead? He's taking point. Dom could just scream. Or shoot him, herself. That's still a hundred grand in the pocket, right? "Of course he had to take the strip club," Dom mutters to herself. "Welcome to yet another generic Hollywood action movie." That isn't the worst of it, though. She needs to figure out -some- manner of plan, here! Instinct would have this Cole fellow behind Jackie, followed by Arsenal then herself, but why would she place herself at the back of the line when her job is to keep the foolish pointman alive? Harder to do from back there! Frack. She'll have to be point two. Arsenal's of less use indoors. Cole's got the PDW. Good enough. "Newbie, cover our asses!" Jackie doesn't slow for much, a lady with groceries is shouldered aside as the run through the halls of a housing project a shouted appology all she gets in return for her spilled food stuffs, a kid is idly tossed back into his apartment when he starts to come out, "STAY!" is bellowed, and the door quickly slams shut. They dodge through one building after another, Jackie seeming to know either by route or instinct where every back door or large enough window can be located, and despite the 'planlessness' of the plan, it seems to be working well. Jackie takes right angle turns when not needed, passes up obvious routes of quick advancement in exchange for more circuitous paths, and above all he's quick about it. Not a bad shot, bit of a looker, and he knows his urban warfare. Some guys have all the luck. Unfortunately, four 'guys' can't out run an army forever, not even a small one, and soon enough Jackie starts to spot black bodies on rooftops through windows, and twice bullets kick up chunks of brick from buildings as one of the group rushes through a doorway or bongs a dumpster as they dart down an alleyway. "We're being herded." Jackie says flatly as he ducks back from a window just in time for it to shatter as a pair of rounds blast through it. He looks back at the others, as himself, "Hey Robin Hood, I get you some room to work, you think you could focus the snipers and take them out while the rest of us work on handling the stupider minions?" Now falling in step next to Domino, Roy grins softly. "Hey, if nothing, I like the man's taste in hideouts," the archer replies, nodding at Grifter as he continues on. "Although if we're supposed to be protecting -him-..." But Domino is already ahead of him there, and so Roy just grins at Grifter. "Such a -hard- duty," he remarks, noticing Domino bolting ahead... at least until Jackie catches his attention. "Yeah, don't gotta tell me twice," Roy replies, grabbing ahold of his Savage. Moving into position, Roy takes advantage of the cover provided, and begins sniping each snipers. Live by the snipe... well, not die by the snipe, but close to it. "It's just a scratch." Is all Cole says to answer Domino's question. "Listen, I'm ex special forces. I have fought guys like this before and I'm still here. You don't need to protect me from shit." Of course during some of those times he had badass psi powers. And yes the one wound that punctured his lung is already closed. The other yup that one is still open. "Just tell me whatever the plan is, and I'll do it. Also I had a pair of aces and flopped another one before your fun ruined my hand. You owe me a lot more than a jacket." Cole was totally gonna win that hand! Jackie looks around their chosen location and nods his head, "I counted four snipers, which means there's gotta be at least six..." he wait until Roy's taken at least four shots before eyeing the others, "The roof." he says, "We get up there without snipers to cover them they'll have to come to us, bottle necked in the stairwells or over open ground across other rooftops and I like us vs them in those circumstances. Come on, the building next to us has a brick maintenance shed on top of it I once used to seduce a widow when I sixteen. It's no bunker, but it'll give up defensible possition, force them back and buy us breathing space." then he's running, having wasted enough time explaining himself. He goes through another door, then is forced to blast the next one appart with the M90 before hopping into an elevator to take it up to roof access on the eight floor. The elevator music is freakishly cheerful and soothing. Jackie eyes the speaker irratably and silences it with the buidness end of a CRKT tactical knife. It sparks and he then tucks it back in his pocket all folded up. "Better." the run up the stairs gets them into the maintenance shed quickly. "Make a hole for the shooting." he says, since obviously the cinder block building has no windows, "We live through this you can buy me a new coat with your winnings." he quips to Cole. "Special forces?" Hell, maybe her luck is still holding together, after all! Domino snap-points toward Jackie, her instructions simple. "Keep him alive." Cole asked, she responded. He isn't demanding anything more than compensation for a winning hand, which she already feels has been paid for by the free PDW she passed his way. To Jackie, she observes "You sure seem to know a lot about these guys, who the hell -are- they? They're packing some pretty specific gear." She likes to know what she's up against. This job had -very- little in the line of intel. She could be exchanging gunfire with SHIELD operatives for all that she knows, which would not be a good thing! "And dude--please,- I don't need to know about your personal life. This is a job, not a social call." Cringe. Elevators. They suck. If this one has a camera it should at least be entertaining for someone in this building. At least Jackie terminates the muzak for them all. "Best move you've made all day, Crash." Make a hole, he says. She's not wasting explosive charges on this one. She picks a patch of wall and lights up the FAL, tearing a fist-sized portal through it before reloading the rifle. "I -really- don't like this. We may as well have a giant fucking arrow pointing right at our heads up here. We're trying to get out of the city, not make a stand!" With the snipers out of the way, Roy catches up to the party, taking a deep breath and humming the Girl from Ipanema to replace the missing elevator music, only stopping when Domino gives him a -look-. As Domino opens up the hole, Roy grins, motioning towards Cole. "Help yourself, spec ops." Jackie checks the loads on his guns as he uses the last clip form the G18 and a sledge hammer from inside the shed to finish making a hole of his own, "Brotherhood of the Darkness, they're a crazed cult of fanatics who recruit ex military types from various places on the globe. Then they drill them harder. Then they tell them that they need me for some sort of super religious nut job circle jerk utopian society with their boss as head honcho. They are suicidal, well equipped, well trained, and fear nothing. Think terrorists made up of Army Rangers." he puts a couple extra rounds into one of his 9's. "But their resources are limited. You inflict heavy enough losses, make the head guy realize he might lose all of his army even if he wins, and his courage will fail before his men's do." he turns to stare at Domino, "Welcome to my life." he glances out the hole he made, "But they've only tried something this open once before and was only a squad of about a dozen guys. Superboy and that invisible chick thought I was a civvie, they pulled me out alive." he takes a long breath, shoulders the shotgun, "Here they come..." Across the roofs of surrounding buildings the small army starts to focus it's attention. Only three of the sides have viable access points, the fourth building edge is a 20 ft drop do it's roof, not feasible to mount an assault from and so acts as a wall at the back of the defenders. The black clad armored men move in organized waves, covering fire helping keep their forward moementum as they approach across the slightly uneven surfaces of other roofs. Jackie's shotgun picks off the first man attempting the short hop down onto their roof from the Eastern most building, the impact knocking him over the build's edge. "I count seven on my side." he calls out, not taking his eyes off of the roofs. "Inflict enough damage and they'll retreat..." he hopes. That last part he doesn't say aloud. He was totally only talking to Jackie. Dom gave him a gun, he actually owes her money or something fort that one. Then Jackie gives his little speech and Cole just shrugs, "I just find you hit them in the head a few times and things usually work out for you." But as the guys start to approach Cole does open fire on them, "Would they be offended if I said I know a lot of girls that could kick their ass, with one hand tied behind their backs?" Cult of fanatics. Super religious nut job society. -Shit.- Domino's thoughts are, as always, her own. The tension that passes through her can be easily explained by the less than fantastic combat situation they've all been led into. But, for the group's lone woman, she's just been given one hell of a wakeup call. "This is where I sing the 'been there, done that' song,'" she sarcastically replies while swapping out chunky box mags in her rifle. "Except that your luck stinks." When the fighting resumes she takes cover by the doorway, twisting around and leveling the large automatic as the SUIT sight comes up to her eye. "Eight here." BAM-BAM! "Six here." SMACK! An enemy round comes out of nowhere, punching through the wall on its way through her armor and side. It's not the cleanest shot, the slug already deformed from passing through the cinderblocks and mortar to get to her. "Gah -fuck!- This is not ideal cover, Jackie!" Dear god. "Don't tell me, you've been to Westboro," mutters Roy as he situates himself, getting the ammo ready for his rifle. There was the briefest of pauses as Roy considers the crowd "Nine," Roy says flatly, all tone of joviality gone from his voice, as he takes aim. Oh, he was going to aim -really- carefully, but talking about seriously incapacitating his targets this time. One slip of a millimeter... Jackie snorts at Cole's words, "Hey Get The Fuck Through The Goddamned Window Already, you feel like tying one of your hands behind your back and kicking their asses so's not to make the new guy a liar? Cause I vote you just put another gun in that hand and shoot more of them." he pulls the trigger a trio of times, "Six." he says, tossing out his count as bullets start to chew into his side of the shed. Fucking steel cores. Unfair. "I know it's not ideal, but neither was letting them pick the place to herd us into an ambush!" he counters. "Best shot at survival isn't the same as a good shot." he says, unwittingly quoting an old military doctrine. "Besides," he says, a small slow smile spreading over his lips, "I have a plan." THUD TUHD, "Four." THUD THUD, "Three." he drops the shotgun and pulls one of his pistols instead. Cole just follows Jackie, man Team 7 would have never let themselves be herded like this! No they would have fallen for a lot more complex trap, involving fake monks and dummies. The wound in his side is still bleeding, Cole officially has the lamest healing factor ever. "And I said I know some girls who could do it. Those ladies would also kick my ass, so well not tying anything. Well maybe later if the pale lady asks real nice." He opens fire at some of the people that are in the room, leaving only one left standing, "One left." Hey they appear to be hunting the non ginger smartmouth, common courtesy says he gets to take out the last one! For the moment, the albino's staying low. One hand is clamped down over her side, staunching the crimson flow. "That's kinda long for a nickname," she points out to Jackie in an oh-so-unhelpful tone. Then to Cole, "Name's Domino, and if you make a joke about me falling over I will so kneecap you." Think, Domino. First rule of combat. It's time to kick over the board and reset the pieces in your favor. With a grimace she pulls a frag grenade clear of her combat webbing, holding it up in her fingertips. "How's your throwing arm looking there, Arsenal?" It's a start, damnit. "Man, if you know women who can do that kind of thing... I want to know them too. Got their numbers?" Roy comments, as he eyes his situation. Dammit, there -really- wasn't a good way to get out of this. Damn it. And there was a building right next to his viewpoint too, but they would need a bigger hole to get down there... Wait. Wait, what? And then with quickness that would have impressed the Flash, Roy grabs Domino's proffered grenade. "Give it here!" Forget staying -here- and being a target, Roy immediately yanks the pin from the grenade and chucks it at -his- former position. Oh he was gonna get yelled at for this, but as soon as the explosion blows out the wall, Roy is already running for the hole. "GERONIMOOOOO!" Jackie is spun around by a blow high on his chest and he stumbles a step to the side before raising the pistol and firing three shots in rapid succession, dropping another of the armor clad soldiers with a geyser sprouting from his throat. Jackie eyes Roy as he falls to a knee, one hand going up to his shoulder where he feels the warmth of blood, and he blinks as a section of the roof caves in under the pressure of the grenade. Seriously? No grenade should have been powerful enough to pop a NYC rooftop corner like it was supported by powered milk. Still... their Luck seems to be holding out in a manner that's almost completely against everything Jackie has come to expect from life. Roy leaps through the smoke, and Jackie eyes Dom, a grimace crossing his features. He takes one step over, lifts her up and physically tosses her like a sack of potatoes after Roy, then eyes Cole, "GOGOGOGO!" he yells, pulling his second handgun from the underarm holster, ignoring the burning pain that shoots through the injured limb at the movement. Roy and Dom vanish into the smoke of the explosion as Jackie turns to cover them, firing wildly with dual pistols as he runs after Grifter. He leaps and twists in the air, both high capacity pitols coming up and spouting flame and lead as he screams, air whistling past his ears as he sails down... down... down through smoke and debris into the unknown... "Wait, Arsenal..! The bad guys are over-- BLAM! --there!" Then he's gone. Jumping. -Yelling.- Way to make yourself a smaller target, Harper. Also, someone totally just shot Domino's mark. "HEY, watch it out there!" She pushes herself upright with the stock of her rifle used as a brace, glancing at the gaping wound that just got blown into the building even as she rattles off the full compliment of twenty rounds from the FAL. Are they jumping? Well, Roy already did. Dom would, regardless. She works off of horrible odds! She just needs to make sure that Jackie's going to make the jump, as she is -not- leaving Mister Money behind. The feeling just might be mutual as Jackie comes over and -picks her up.- "The fuck are you doing?! Put me down, I'm perfectly capable of throwing myself off of buildings!" Then..things get a little crazy. X-gene, don't fail me now. Next: 4 Hours to Sunset Category:Logs Category:Events